


But The Sea Changes Colors

by scratchienails



Series: Long Live the King (for a little while longer) [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gol D. Roger lives, Kidnapping, Parent Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks, Roger steals Luffy to piss off Garp, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21912268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/pseuds/scratchienails
Summary: “There’s something on this island that Garp wants.” Roger had laughed as he tapped the roughly sketched map with a calloused finger. “And we’re gonna get it first.”'It' turned out to be a baby.(What if Roger never got sick, attempt 1)
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks & Monkey D. Luffy, Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace
Series: Long Live the King (for a little while longer) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578277
Comments: 93
Kudos: 1364





	1. The Child of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Eehhh?! I'm writing One Piece, again??
> 
> Seems so.

Shanks isn’t really sure how things turned out like this.

But it had started, like most of the trouble in their lives, with a very bored captain. Because when Roger was bored, Roger looked for a good fight. Which by itself could make for a pretty good time, but it was when he actually found one that things always went straight to hell. 

Shanks had known they were in for it the moment the name _Garp_ came up, regarding an island that had been the center of some odd movements, according to their allies.

“There’s something on this island that Garp wants.” Roger had laughed as he tapped the roughly sketched map with a calloused finger. “And we’re gonna get it first.”

As pirates, it was a surefire way to pick a fight. It had never failed them before. But it was one thing to pick a fight with Whitebeard, and a complete another to purposefully go after Garp the Fist. Shanks had been running from the marine since he was a little brat, and had learnt by now that if the whimsical and airheaded man was actually _interested_ in something other than a fight and a meal, it was bad news. Anything that could hold the old fart’s attention had to be.

So of course they found the island of interest embroiled in what could only be called a typhoon of the highest magnitude. Not even the Oro Jackson dared to move too close and risk getting smashed against the island’s steep cliffs by the unforgiving waves, so to get ashore, they had to get from the deck to the rocks by themselves. The marines were already there, their ships tossed around like toys by waves ten stories high, and Shanks could feel the immense presence of the marines’ Hero in the distance, clashing with _something_.

But things really took a turn when his captain found the baby.

A _baby_ , of all things, left alone in a half-destroyed house in the middle of a storm—it was not exactly the kind of strange that competed with what they saw on the day-to-day basis, but there was something heavy about their discovery of the babe. Despite two of the home’s walls being almost entirely torn away, the wind and rain didn’t pass beyond the threshold. Inside, it was like they were sitting in the eye of the storm: nothing but calm, warm air and the distant pattering of rain.

The baby was wrapped in a blanket in a cradle, still and quiet but very much alive. 

Shanks was kind of unnerved by the whole thing, but of course Roger didn’t hesitate to pluck the baby right out of the cradle. The moment the little thing left the cushions, the spell was broken. Rain poured in and the winds tried to send them all heads-over-heels. Roger laughed, utterly delighted by the weather’s sudden onslaught, and his grin only grew as a presence roared towards them. 

Shanks had met Garp plenty of times before, but the goofy Garp of then had nothing on the Garp of that moment. Shanks had never seen anyone so terrifying, rippling with power and rage in equal, unquantifiable measure. And still Roger was grinning like the madman he was, the face of what could only be called imminent death finally banishing the boredom from his eyes.

The marine’s presence bearing down had Shanks struggling to stand, even as his captain’s _haki_ rose to match.

“Roger! Give me that baby!” Garp snarled, his voice booming against the house’s ruins. 

“ _This_ baby?” Roger laughed, glancing briefly down at the bundle in the crook of his elbow. 

“Hand him over!”

“You’ll have to fight me for him!” With that, Roger shoved the bundle into Shanks arms and sent Garp flying across the island. Then, with a single step, he was chasing after the marine, still laughing.

And that brings him to where he is now: Shanks is holding a baby and trying to make his way back to the ship in the middle of the worst typhoon he’s ever been in, even worse than Aqua Laguna and maybe even the Great Cocijo still raging in the North itself. The rain is hitting him in sheets, as hard and thick as the waves crashing against the cliffs, and the wind threatens to sweep him off his feet and into the unforgiving depths. 

It’s like the gales themselves are trying to rip the child from his arms. Maybe they are, if the cloaked figure he caught the barest of a glimpse of, illuminated only by the crashing lightning, was really who he thinks it was. 

Shanks clutches the baby tighter and braces himself against the elements. It doesn’t matter if the Gods themselves attempt to rip the little bundle from his arms, he’s not letting go. It’s such a little thing, but it's wails rise even higher and louder than the roaring thunder and even the sounds of the battle raging in the distance. 

He struggles to see what’s going on through the rain, relying mostly on _haki_ to keep track of the combatants and stay well out of their way. His captain’s presence burns like the sun hidden by the black clouds, but Garp feels like lava against his nerves.

The third is nothing like either of them, and even Shanks struggles to track it. It seems to slip in and out of existence moment by moment; for one breath, it's there, tremendous and fearsome, and then it’s gone again, slipping away. 

When it reappears, it's not on the battlefield at all.

It’s directly behind him.

Shanks whirls around as fast as he dares on such slippery footing with a _baby_ in his arms, and finds himself face to face with a young man more legend than flesh.

Black eyes bore into his own, set in a hard, severe face, and Shanks can feel electricity prickling against his skin.

He tucks the child closer to his chest and snarls, his own _haki_ finally lashing out against the man’s presence. The cloaked man doesn’t even flinch or waver, staring steadily on as Shanks frees one hand and wraps it around his sword handle, fully prepared to draw. 

But the man doesn’t attack, doesn’t even step forward. The wind is whipping around them with all the strength of a tornado but neither of them budge.

Shanks doesn’t know what he sees in those dark, incomprehensible eyes, and he doesn’t know what the man sees in his in turn. A very dangerous swordsman fully prepared to decapitate anyone that tries to harm the child left in his care, hopefully.

Just as Shanks is certain the man is going to make his move, with the lightning flashing over their heads, the ferocity on the man’s face breaks. A grin spreads over his harsh features, wild and unwavering. 

“You’ll do.”

The voice carries with startling clarity over the wind and the rain, as the lighting finally comes crashing down at their feet. Shanks curls himself reflexively over the child, hoping against logic and reason the Armament _haki_ alone could shield the baby from the electricity about to course through them both. But the lightning doesn’t strike them, and when Shanks forces his eyes back open, the man is gone.

The wind, the rain, the waves; they all seem a little bit gentler, too. 

* * *

Shanks doesn’t ask what happened to Garp. It’s too much to hope for that the marine is dead— Shanks is pretty sure the old man will outlive them all— so he’ll settle for knowing that at least the captain got the fight he’d been so desperately wanting. 

Roger takes the baby from him, even though Shanks’ frozen fingers refuse to uncurl and release the blanket he’s been gripping so tightly. Despite the fact that they’re all soaked to the bone, Roger is grinning behind his dripping moustache, his laughter mingling with the baby’s cries.

“Why, you’re a lively little fella, aren’t ya?” He bounces the little thing lightly, with all the gentleness and ease he learned by rocking Ace. The wild thirst for battle that had been bright in his eyes had finally given way, leaving nothing but pure satisfaction. “Good work, Shanks. Let’s head back, yeah?”

The praise is casual, but a little annoying. Shanks isn’t a kid anymore. He still calls Roger his captain, but in reality, Shanks is a captain in his own right now, with a ship and a crew and everything. But with Ace so young, he and his Red Force have been sticking close to the Oro Jackson, helping further dissuade any attempts made on the little Pirate Prince’s life. 

“What are we gonna do with him?” If Roger says _it_ is actually a _him,_ Shanks mostly believes him. He didn’t check, too busy clutching the baby for dear life, but it feels right.

The question makes Roger pause, just for a moment, like he’s only just realizing that they need to actually do something with the baby they’ve successfully stolen. That the little thing exists beyond being a convenient excuse to fight Garp.

And then Roger shrugs. “Guess we could drop him off at the next peaceful island.”

“With both the marines and the Revolutionaries after him?” Shanks can’t help but raise an eyebrow at Roger. He isn’t drunk enough for this, not even close. 

“Revolutionaries?” Roger blinks, and Shanks desperately wishes his bottle of rum had survived the storm. 

“You didn’t notice them? Dragon, the big guy himself, was there! They were after the kid, for some reason! I nearly had to fight him!” And it would have been one hell of a fight too. Picturing it, Shanks isn’t exactly sure who’d have won. He’d definitely been handicapped by the whole holding-a-baby thing, which meant fighting the Revolutionary himself down an arm. 

“Ah…” Roger stalls. “What does a guy like that want with this kid?” 

Shanks has no idea, but Dragon had backed down awfully easy for someone that whipped up an entire typhoon over the whole thing. 

“Could this baby be important?” He wonders aloud, taking another peak at the infant. He’s got chubby cheeks and the tiniest hands Shanks has ever seen, a runt even for a newborn. Nothing particularly impressive jumps out at him. “Like, a World Noble or something?”

Roger pauses midstep, his mouth falling open, evidently only just _now_ realizing the implications of everything they just went through. He throws himself over the baby, shielding it with his whole torso as he gapes at Shanks. “If he is, we can’t let Dragon have him!” 

“Obviously! Leaving him with some civilians is probably way too dangerous.” Benn would certainly say so, if he were here and not metaphorically babysitting the crew while Shanks literally babysits for his former captain.

Roger looks from Shanks to the baby, from the baby to Shanks, and then back to the baby, who sniffles up at him and tries to grab his moustache. Immediately, Roger melts. 

“Guess we’ll just have to keep him then!” He announces with a grin.

“What?” Shanks is the one gaping now. 

“Well, like you said, if both the marines and Revolutionaries are after him, there’s nobody else, right? It’s not like anybody else will be strong enough to protect him.” Yeah, Shanks himself more or less made that point. Crazy as the idea is, it probably won’t be too different from when they had Momonosuke and Hiyori aboard: one toddler and one baby. And Shanks knows from that experience that Roger really does like babies. Probably enough to steal one. 

Shanks likes kids too, so he doesn’t kick up much more fuss. 

That is, until Roger starts laughing again. “Aw, man, I can’t wait to see the look on Rouge’s face!”

Oh, heavens above, Shanks hopes to she gives them a chance to explain before she murders them.


	2. The Voice of Reason

“Rouge! Rouge!” Roger’s voice echoes over the deck. Rayleigh turns away from the galleon he just sliced in half and sets his eyes on his returning captain, jovial and looking a bit ruffled from his fight with Garp. There’s an air of mischief about him, and already, Rayleigh can feel his lips turning up. “I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Mentally preparing himself for whatever nonsense Roger has cooked up now, Rayleigh gives the crew the signal to depart. Not much of the Marines’ force remains above water, so the fighting had been winding down. As the Oro Jackson’s bow swings around and they tack, he watches his captain carefully. There’s some kind of bundle tucked into Roger’s elbow, and Shanks is a few steps behind him, looking unusually harried. 

From the main cabin, a tall woman steps onto the deck, with a freckled child sitting upon her shoulders. Even though Ace’s hands are winded in and tugging at her hair, Rouge is smiling.

“What is it?”

Roger presents the bundle to her with a sunny grin, revealing to the whole crew _exactly_ what it is.

“Another baby!”

Rouge stalls in place, her smile frozen on her face as she blinks at Roger. Rayleigh blinks at Roger. They all blink at Roger.

It is, indeed, a baby. A brand new baby. A maybe even more or less straight from the womb baby. 

Horrified whispers break out all across the deck, and Rayleigh is too busy trying to figure out the _what, how, when, where,_ and more importantly, _why_ of the matter to stop them. Suddenly deeply, deeply exhausted, he sits down on the deck and gives up.

Roger pushes the baby right in Rouge’s face, and she takes it.

“Oh, a baby.” She says, blankly, mostly towards the infant in her hands. Still on her shoulders, so tangled in her blonde locks that he’s kept upright, Ace is shocked quiet. 

Still smiling, Rouge turns away from Roger and strides right up to Rayleigh. 

“Look, Rayleigh, a baby!” She says airily, as she puts the infant right in his arms. In almost the same motion, she untangles Ace and sweeps him off her shoulders, and then settles him right in Rayleigh’s lap. “Mommy will be right back, okay, Ace?”

Ace isn’t paying her much attention, eyes still on the mysterious baby with his mouth hanging open. The rest of them watch with no small amount of trepidation as Rouge goes right back to Roger, still blankly smiling all the way.

“Roger,” she says, in the bright and sunny way of hers, “did you fucking cheat on me?”

Roger grins back. Until the words register, and the grin falls off his face, leaving him slack-jawed and sweating.

“No, no! No! Noooooo!” The captain says, very quickly, but not at all convincingly, if Rouge’s widening smile is anything to go by. “No! I mean—I would never—that’s not—I mean, I guess that’s how it looks, but—I didn’t—”

Rayleigh can’t watch. He can’t believe _this_ is how Gol D. Roger, Pirate King and emperor of the seas, dies. What an end to an era. He grimaces down at Ace, and finds the child has two little hands wrapped in the baby’s blanket, peeking curiously at the round face revealed by the folds. 

“We found the baby on the island.” Shanks cuts in, before anyone can get maimed. “We think he’s what the Marines were after.”

“And he’s not mine!” Roger tacks on. Rouge is smiling right into his face, her hands clasped in front of her, complete white-knuckled. “Tell her he’s not mine, Shanks!”

“And he’s probably not the captain’s.” Shanks adds, after a healthy pause under Rouge’s wide-eyed, smiling scrutiny. 

Everyone holds their breath. 

“Oh, thank goodness.” Rouge laughs, and they all relax again, breathing sighs of relief as subtly as they can. Roger in particular hides his exhale as Rouge turns back towards Rayleigh, and of course, the baby. 

Now that his captain isn’t in danger of being drawn and quartered, Rayleigh takes a better look at the little babe tucked into his arms. _Tiny,_ is his first thought, followed by, _wrinkly._

Red, too. And getting redder, and Rayleigh knows what that means, from personal experience. He prepares his ears as the baby takes an enormous breath, impressive for something that should have such miniscule lungs, and _screams._

Ace startles, falling over Rayleigh’s knee, and the baby’s wails pick up a whole notch. Tiny hands work their way free of the blanket to wave in the air, and Ace comes right back to stare at them, his childish face scrunched in horror as he seemingly realizes for the first time that the bundle is _alive_. 

Rayleigh rocks for all his worth, giving his best helpless look at anyone close enough by to do something. He doesn’t know if the baby is hungry or scared or if it’s something else, doesn’t know if anyone has fed the little thing, or even if it’s _ever_ been fed. Do they even still have baby formula? They didn’t exactly have a wet nurse handy.

They still had all of Ace’s baby stuff, thank the seas. 

Shanks is waving his arms in the air, wide-eyed in the face of the baby’s tears, and starts barking near nonsensical orders to the crew, most of whom helped raise _him_ and stare back, unimpressed. Still, Seagull hobbles off in direction of the kitchen, hopefully in search of some formula, and when Rayleigh looks forward again, at both Roger and Rouge are bent over him, cooing like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Don’t cry! Don’t cry!” Rouge sings, and Roger starts pulling at his cheeks and nose, making all sorts of faces. 

But it’s Ace that reaches out first, and is immediately caught by a tiny hand with an impressive grip. Even though Ace immediately tries to retreat, he doesn’t escape, thoroughly caught.

“Gimme back my finger!” Ace whines, but the baby ignores him in favor of trying stick said finger right in his mouth. 

(Rayleigh might fall a little bit in love right there, but nobody else needs to know that.)

* * *

Eventually, things settle down. They move from the deck to the captain’s cabin, where Rouge sinks into an armchair with a drowsy baby in her arms. Roger has Ace, leaving Rayleigh to try and figure out how to once more piece back together the crib they’d only put into storage a year ago. Shanks followed them in, notably a little anxious and not at all knowing what to do with himself.

And no, Rayleigh is not sulking about not getting to hold the baby anymore. He is being very mature about this. He and Shakky could totally have kids if they wanted to. Probably. Well, they are both getting up there, even if Shakky doesn't look it...

Does he want kids? No. He already practically raised Shanks and Buggy. He doesn't want kids. Roger and Rouge want kids, and he's just along for the ride. 

Oblivious to his mild crisis, Rouge is looking at Roger. “Any idea who his parents are? Where they are?”

Roger is now too busy making faces at Ace, so Shanks answers. “No idea. When we got there, Garp and Dragon were duking it out.”

“ _Dragon?”_ Rouge repeats, looking utterly delighted. “ _The_ Dragon? Did you see him?”

Shanks nods fiercely, frowning. “And nearly had to fight him too!”

Rayliegh can’t resist rubbing his chin thoughtfully at that. _Dragon,_ a relatively new figure on the world’s scene compared to their crew of several decades, but one that had made his mark far more quickly and destructively. He’d risen to notoriety like lightning, challenging the World Government’s authority everywhere he appeared. 

Despite having already amassed an immense following, he remained mysterious. 

That such a man and Roger came so close to meeting—Rayleigh couldn’t even imagine what Roger might have done, considering everything they’d learned on Laugh Tale. 

He’d heard Roger and Rouge discussing the man in low voices, more thoughtful in those moments than he’d ever really seen them before. Rouge is the type to decide something and carry it through, regardless of whatever else occurred, good or bad. Her mind is one of the least flexible Rayleigh has ever encountered.

But Roger—well, Roger had always been the type to go with the flow, but also always knew when he needed to dig his feet in the sand and refuse to budge. But Laugh Tale had changed him. Ever since then, Roger had been spending a lot more time alone in his thoughts, thinking of the future and the mission they were as of yet unable to see through. 

Roger had never failed to manage something he’d wanted to do before. It had been a first, and a memorable one at that.

 _“I was born in the wrong era, wasn’t I?”_ He’d heard Roger muttering once, to the sea and its emptiness. “ _Too late but too soon.”_

The following day, Roger had decided to have a child of his own. 

Rayleigh still doesn’t know how he feels about the whole thing. Laugh Tale, the Poneglyphs, the Void Century—it had been Roger’s passion, at the time. He’d really only been going along for the ride.

But looking at Ace, and the life Roger probably thinks is in store for him, Rayleigh wonders if even he has become a little invested. The mermaid princess, _Poseidon,_ will be born in a few years, and the era Roger has been waiting for will begin. What happens then… he isn’t so sure. Because no matter how determinedly Roger keeps going, one thing is clear: _it_ isn’t meant to be them, _it_ isn’t meant for them. 

Laugh Tale is still waiting, and now so must they. For now, they’re a bunch of pirates on the ocean with a new baby, and the Revolutionaries and weapons of mass destruction and prophecies all feel very far away. 

Case in point, Rouge is nuzzling her forehead against the babe, grinning so wide her cheeks must ache. 

“He’s so cute! We’ll have to give him a really cute name!” She hums when the baby bats at her cheek with a little hand. “Jack? Trey? Portgas D. Trey sounds pretty good...”

“Gol!” Roger is suddenly paying attention again, tucking Ace under an arm so he can turn of Rouge. “Gol! He’s gonna be a Gol!”

“Portgas!” Rouge chirps back, and Roger throws his hands in the air, child and all. Ace lets out a delighted shriek.

“Gol! Ace got your name, so this one should get mine! Gol!”

“Portgas!”

Shanks groans. “Not this argument again…” The last one, regarding Ace’s family name, had gone on for three weeks and nearly claimed lives. (Rouge had won, somehow.)

But right as the two parents are winding up, the ship rocks. Rayleigh can hear the wind howling, no doubt buffeting their hull. Very far away, there is the crack of thunder.

Considering who they’d just recently run into, Rayleigh is not so naive to think that’s _not_ some sort of sign.

Shanks’ head is up in an instant, wide eyes staring out the cabin window. “Oh shit, is _he_ coming after us? _Us?”_

“If he was willing to take on Garp for this baby, than yeah, maybe!” There's that look in Roger's eye again, but Rayleigh pauses, and thinks through the story Shanks detailed to him.

“Are we so sure that’s it’s not the other way around?” He wonders aloud. Dragon had let Shanks take the child, as if it was more important to him that the baby not end up with the Marines than taking it for himself. “That Garp wasn't taking on Dragon for the baby?”

Roger stares at him, an eyebrow raised. “What’s the difference?”

Considering what Dragon had supposedly said before disappearing, Rayleigh can feel a picture forming in his mind. “I mean, we’re assuming that Dragon was trying to take the baby from the Marines, but going by the evidence, doesn’t it seem more like the Marines were trying to take the baby from Dragon?”

Silence follows.

Shanks’ face goes completely white.

“Oh, holy fuck.” He says. “Fucking shit. Goddammit. Goddamn fucking shitballs.”

“Shanks!” Rouge rebukes, covering the baby’s ears. “The kids!” Too late; Ace looks absolutely amazed, already mouthing a few expletives to himself.

But Shanks ignores her, throwing his hands in the air and tearing at his hair. “We’re fucking morons! This kid is Dragon’s!” He outright wails at the ceiling. “We stole Dragon’s fucking kid! We have to bring him back, right now!” 

“No way!” Roger immediately barks. “We don’t _know_ that!”

Teetering on the edge of a full breakdown, Shanks immediately latches onto the denial. “Right! We have no proof! Forget what I just said!” 

“Yeah…” Rouge nods.

Far from comforted, Shanks regresses, wide eyes set over a desperate smile. “Like c’mon, what are the chances…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roger nods.

“Plus, we did what anyone would do! We couldn’t just leave the baby there, right?” 

“Of course not.” Rayleigh nods, but his face is set in his best no-nonsense expression, and before it, all other parties crumble.

At last, Shanks slumps over. “We’re kidnappers, aren’t we…”

“Oh, yeah, totally.” Roger gleefully sums up.


	3. The Dog of the Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the cheat code! Yay!
> 
> Except I'm not super happy with the chapter yet; I'll edit it tomorrow morning. In the meantime, here it is.

“Well,” Roger announces, as if nothing is wrong and they didn’t just steal a child from the most outrageous man in the world (besides Roger himself), “Dragon’s or not, the little scamp still needs a name!”

Shanks isn’t really in the baby-naming state of mind. In fact, he’s not in any state of mind. His mind has walked the plank and drowned itself in the waves outside. 

It’s fine. Totally fine. He just needs about five to ten drinks, a good party, and to pretend none of this ever happened. And, also, to never trust himself with a child again. Whose idea was that in the first place, anyway? Shanks, with a kid? Recipe for disaster right there.

Oh, right. It was Roger’s idea. No wonder it was _batshit insane._

Rayleigh is pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to reason with the captain. “Can we really just… casually put the initial ‘D’ in his name? Roger, you know that’s dangerous.”

But Roger just laughs, sweeping aside his first mate’s worries. “Since its something the government wants to hide so badly, doesn’t it suit him?” He waggles a finger in the baby’s face, eliciting a bout of gurgling and waving arms. With some milk in his belly, the baby is quickly revealing himself to have the energy of a child triple his size. “His father is the type of man that dares to bare his teeth at the world!”

It is, as always, a frustratingly solid argument. If anyone alive is a good candidate for the Will of D, it’s Dragon the Revolutionary. Shanks privately makes a bet with himself: three kegs on the baby already bearing the mark of the devil.

Ace is not enthused about his father’s attention falling elsewhere, glaring furiously at the giggling pair of man and baby from his mother’s lap, but before any tantrums can be thrown, shouting come echoing in from the deck.

“Captain! Captain!” One of the crewmen is yelling, and the door of the Captain’s quarters shudders with urgent knocking. “There’s something on the horizon!” 

“Something?” Rayleigh repeats, an eyebrow raised as he goes to open the door. Outside, the crew are all gathered on the port side, gaping out at the open waters.

“It looks like someone swimming, but that’s, well, crazy… Even if this is the East Blue, that’s still too much!”

Roger shoves the baby in Rayleigh’s arms, and nods Shanks towards Rouge and Ace, before he snatches a telescope out of someone’s hands. Whatever is out there is too far for _haki_ to be much use, so Shanks gathers Ace up in one arm and nudges Rouge behind him as the captain surveys the horizon.

For a moment, it’s quiet, until Roger lowers the telescope and rubs his chin.

“Garp…” He mumbles. 

Immediately, everyone is yelling.

“Seriously?”

The Red Force is on their starboard side, making sure no other Navy forces get the chance to sneak up on them while they’re distracted by Garp. Except, for all intents and purposes, the old man seems completely alone, steadily approaching them with long sweeps of a front crawl.

Barking with laughter, Roger beats a fist against the railing. “He did say he wasn’t gonna let me get away this time! Guess he meant it!”

“Well, we _did_ sink all their ships…” Rayleigh chuckles, watching as the marine crested a wave. “Should we hoist the sails and outrun him?”

“No way.” Roger waves him off. “Let’s see what the old bastard wants, eh?”

It isn’t long before an enormous hand slaps down on the edge of their deck. With one immense heave, Garp throws himself over the railing and lands, very nearly rocking their ship with the mere force of his landing alone. 

Vice-Admiral Garp looks different without the coat of justice hanging from his shoulders. No less intimidating for it, even soaking wet, but less authoritative. With his sleeves rolled up and his shoes lost somewhere to the currents, he might have looked like anyone lost at sea. But instead, barrel-chested and tall as he is, no one can mistake him for anything but a man of immense power.

“Where. Is. He.” Each word is enunciated very carefully, evidence of great restraint. But when no one replies, an immense fist plows into their deck, shattering the treasured floorboards. Immediately, everyone’s hands are on their weapons, but a simple glance of Garp’s twisted snarl is enough to keep them all at bay. The crew spreads out strategically, shielding both Rayleigh and Rouge in the crowd of bristling pirates. Shanks has one hand on his blade and the other tucking Ace inside his cloak. 

Of course, Ace doesn’t like that, and starts gnawing on his forearm like some kind of teething puppy.

Garp looks their captain right in the eye. “Roger, I swear, if you’ve so much as—”

“As what?” Roger interrupts, his own smile turning nasty. He rarely ever forgives someone for harming his ship. “Whatcha gonna do? C’mon, let’s go another round.”

Normally, Garp would undoubtedly rise up to the challenge. But this time, Garp just looks tired. Tired and angry and frustrated.

“My grandson.” He says, the word unmistakable for anything else despite being completely unimaginable a concept. “Give him back.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone takes their time processing that simple statement. 

“ _Grandson?”_

Slack-jawed, Rayleigh steps out from where he’d been obstructed by the crowd, the baby in his arms. Roger points at the baby, still gaping.

“ _This_ thing _?”_

“Yeah, _that_ thing!” Garp roars right back, pulling up to his full three meters in height. “Hand him over, Rayleigh!”

“No, hold up!” Roger cuts right back in, waving his arms around. “You have children? Since when? How come you had kids before I did?”

Most people have children before Roger did, actually, but it’s a fair question. Mostly because procreation requires _that_ and Shanks really, _really_ can’t imagine any woman would ever want to… 

Everyone takes a moment to process the new information, and to cleanse any undesirable imagery from their brains. 

Rayleigh frowns down at the tiny baby in his arms, and then looks back at Garp. “Is he _really_ yours?”

Hands fist on his hips, Garp nods forcefully enough to have water spraying across the deck. “Yep. He’s Monkey D. Luffy, my new grandson.” 

Monkey D. Luffy. Well, that certainly settles the debate on the initial. Shanks owes himself three kegs of beer. It's gonna be a party tonight.

Except, if the baby is Garp’s, then how the hell did the Revolutionaries fit into all this? He can’t help but scratch his head, or at least attempt to, dragging the toddler clamped teeth-first on his arm with him. 

“We thought he was Dragon’s…” Shanks trails off, still trying to shake Ace off, and Garp raises a grizzled eyebrow in his direction. 

“You knew that and still took him? Ballsy.”

Well, no one has ever accused Shanks of _not_ having balls— 

Wait, what?

“Eh?” Hold on. “Wait, you mean—” That certainly implied— “He _is_ Dragon’s?”

“It’s all starting to make sense now.” Roger rubs his chin, nodding and looking pleased with himself at having solved some great mystery. Everyone stares at him, not at all following. When he glances back at Garp, it is with a gleam in his eye. “So Dragon knocked up you daughter, eh? That’s rough.”

“Why you—! What _daughter_?” Roger’s going to die, Shank’s every instinct screams, because Garp is shaking his fist with pure bloodlust now. “That little bastard _is_ my son!” 

Shanks has never once in his life imagined he’d hear someone call Dragon the Revolutionary a ‘little bastard’. First time for everything. 

Then again, he never imagined this sort of crazy family drama was possible either. 

It’s an uproar. Ace, unperturbed, shimmies up Shanks’ arm and attempts to take a chunk out of his ear.

“Dragon is _your son?”_

“No way…” 

“It’s a whole family of Monkeys…”

Rouge forces her way through and cocks her head to the side. “Then why were you and the Navy fighting the Revolutionaries?”

Garp huffs at her. “Like I was gonna let that rascal of a son of mine raise the boy up to be criminal just like him. It was just a custody battle, you know how those go.”

Shanks would pull out his own hair, but Ace, the helpful little bugger, is already on it. 

“Most custody battles don’t involve actual battle, you know! You took it too literally!” 

“Well, whatever…” Ignoring the lecture he’s getting from a _pirate crew,_ Garp shoves a finger up his nose. “Now, give Luffy back.” He holds out a hand to Roger, as if the baby is a dropped wallet and not a fragile little sack of bones and fat. Though, Shanks supposes, Garp’s hand is certain large enough to fit a whole baby in just the palm. Having seen the man throw everything from hammers to cannonballs, Shanks doesn’t find the image particularly comforting.

Roger does take the baby back from Rayleigh, but doesn’t fork him over. Instead, he curls himself over the bundle, glowering. “Don’t wanna. Mine now.”

“Luffy, hm? That’s a nice name.” Rouge is right beside him, kneeling down to gaze at the nearly hidden babe. “Ace, come here.” She waves, and immediately the little fists pulling at Shanks’ cheeks relent. Ace grapples his way back down to the deck and stumbles towards his mother, who sweeps him up so he can get a better look. “This is your new baby brother, Luffy!”

Garp throws his arms in the air. 

“He’s not! Give him back!”

Rouge just cocks her head in his direction. “Garp-san, you’re a Vice-Admiral. What exactly were you gonna do with a baby?” 

It’s a fair question, and in response, Garp just shrugs. “Well, I was just gonna dump him in my hometown a couple islands over, maybe have the local bandits look after him if the villagers didn’t take him.”

“So you chased us all the way here to get back your grandson, just so you can abandon him?” Roger gapes at him. “Fuck you, we’re keeping him.”

“Like hell I’m letting a bunch of worthless sea dogs raise my grandson! You’ll make him into a pirate!”

“But bandits are fine?” Shanks can’t help but wonder aloud. 

Garp heaves a sigh, and sombers. The exaggerated anger melts away, leaving behind a man that is dead serious. 

“Roger, quit fooling yourself.” He starts. “You can’t keep that baby. In the eyes of the government, it’s bad enough that he has Dragon’s blood running in his veins. If he’s found on the ship of the Pirate King on top of that—” Garp pauses, but there’s no need to finish. They know better than anyone what sort of fate awaits a child found on Gold Roger’s ship. With a gravity he’s never been known for, Garp seems to look at every single one of them. “It’ll be a death sentence.”

He’s not wrong, Shanks knows. But he’s not right either.

Because, just like Roger said, they’ll protect him. With their lives if they have to. There isn’t a force in the world that can hurt someone the Oro Jackson’s crew has taken in. 

Roger’s expression is a dark, merciless, and frightening thing.

“You’re the one fooling yourself, Garp.” He says, and Garp might flinch, just a little. “Do you really think the world will care by whom this child is raised? From the moment he was born as the son of a revolutionary—no, from the moment he was born bearing that initial—he was already this world’s enemy. From the start, his existence couldn’t be tolerated by them.”

“If he proves his worth to the Navy then—!”

“You think that if he bows his head and barks on command, everything will be fine? That he lives his life their dog, they’ll tolerate him?” This time, it is Roger that draws himself up to his full, tremendous height. There’s something ferocious about his eyes, wild and unforgiving. “Maybe you could choose that kind of life for yourself, Garp, but you don’t get to choose it for anyone else.”

Garp stares back, with dark eyes just as animalistic. 

And then he slumps, just an old man starting to grey. 

“…You’ll love him as your own?” The question is quiet, but steady. There’s no surrender in Garp’s gaze, and instead there is a challenge shining there. A dare. “You don’t have to be gentle with him, or kind, or even careful. We’re a tough breed, we don’t need coddling. Just promise me that you’ll love him.”

“I swear it.” Rogers says, but it's Rouge that steps forward with a hand over her heart.

“On my life.” She agrees, and not for the first time, Shanks notes she’s got the same dark eyes as either man. The eyes of the D. 

“Then I guess he’s yours.” Garp puffs, weary and maybe a little relieved. There’s a glint of his infamous humor entering his gaze again, and something like a grin itching at the corners of his lips. “On one condition, of course: I get to be Ace’s grandpa too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, part three of this series is up! Check it out!


End file.
